


Glass

by jamaillith



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamaillith/pseuds/jamaillith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old, shameless fluff and kisses during a long night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass

Logan stared down at the drink between his hands, the condensation that limned the gaps between where his fingers curled. The liquid that swirled, dark and thick through the green of the bottle, tiny bubbles breaking on its surface. He was drowning his sorrows.

Except he wasn’t- his mutation took swift care of that. For every beer he drowned, he felt no muzziness, no sudden rush of daring or bravado. Not even an overwhelming feeling of melancholy. Nothing. He was as clear-headed as he had been when he walked down to the kitchen, an itching beneath his skin and a loneliness in his bones he couldn’t shake.

He wanted a cigar, except he knew the kids wouldn’t appreciate eating their cornflakes with the stink of smoke hanging around their heads. And besides, he’d promised Jean he’d quit.

Jean. Jean, his flame-haired beauty, his Celtic goddess, up there in bed with Scott. Feeling his chest against her back, his hand cool on her hip. Bastard.

Logan swigged deeply, not even bothering to taste the beer before it slid down his throat. For a school, they had a surprisingly large stock of alcohol- if one knew where to look. Logan could smell a brew at a thousand paces, so locating Xavier’s secret liquor cabinet hadn’t been a problem.

Drinking it, however, was turning out to be.

The cluster of bottles surrounded him like a small green army, their acrid scent wending it’s way to his nostrils every time he breathed in. He knocked at them irritably, smiling with satisfaction when a number fell over and rolled away across the worktop. Man down. Take that, boys. He flicked at the nearest bottle with a fingernail. Pow. And you. Pow, pow. POW. Shot to the leg, a purple spurting from his thigh. Heart. Stomach. Shoulder.

A tip-tapping symphony like machine gun fire, and Logan realised he was being stupid. With a growl, he swept his arm across his troops and sent them all tumbling through the air, smashing on the floor so that he almost expected mushroom clouds of dust and fire.

Glass shards winking at him in the moonlight, silence after a storm. Someone cleared his throat behind him.

Logan whirled around, claws unsheathing with a _snikt_ of sound. Wondered in the split second before he saw who it was how he’d let anyone sneak up on him like that.

Kurt raised his eyebrows, a movement Logan only noticed by the change in shape of his lambent, saffron eyes.

‘Trouble sleeping?’

Logan re-sheathed his claws, the familiar burn in his knuckles subsiding as the skin healed almost instantaneously. He glowered at Kurt, settling himself back on his stool.

‘Speak for yourself.’

Kurt shrugged- a catlike gesture that was as effortlessly graceful as everything else about him. He lent against the doorway, only illuminated by faint blue-steel patches of moonlight across his bare chest and shoulders. The rest of his body melted into the darkness - save his eyes, which regarded Logan with an opaque expression.

‘You’ve been killing beer bottles again, mein freund. Ororo was quite certain that she wasn’t going to clear the glass up again,’ Kurt pointed out. Logan snorted.

‘I’ll clear it up. What’re you doing down here, Elf? Woke up in the middle of the night and decided to come bust my chops for the sheer Hell of it?’

If Kurt were hurt by the acidity in Logan’s voice, he didn’t show it. Rather, he glanced down at his feet, as if embarrassed. Logan couldn’t help but notice how his arms were crossed over the flat planes of his chest.

‘I am.. rastlos. No. I can’t settle. Sleepless. I can’t..’ His usually adaptive tongue tripped uncharacteristically. He rubbed at the back of his neck. Logan wondered how soft his fur felt there- downy like a rabbit’s, or short and thick like velvet?

‘Sleep?’ Logan finished for him, his irritation dulling back to itchy depression.

Kurt shrugged again.

‘It’s too hot tonight. Confining. So I came down and found you, making a mess.’ He paused, thoughtfully. ‘You’re lucky the noise didn’t wake anyone.’

‘You’re lucky I didn’t impale your fuzzy behind, sneaking up on me like that.’

‘I do not sneak,’ Kurt sniffed, amusement nevertheless curling his words. ‘Perhaps you did not hear me through all the smashing.’ He swept a hand at the glass explosions on the floor, his curiously alien fingers appearing momentarily silvered as they grazed through the air.

‘Perhaps I don’t need to hear you harping on at me. You sound like Summers,’ Logan retorted, with perhaps a little too much sting. Ah, hell. He was feeling prickly.

‘Maybe.’ Kurt’s voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. Logan felt Kurt’s eyes on him as he took a gulp of his beer. He slammed the bottle back onto the worktop, bristling.

‘What?’ Logan barked. Kurt might’ve jumped a little - if he did, he hid it well. His eyes widened slightly, and Logan heard the swish of his tail cutting through the air.

‘Entschuldigung! I do not mean to offend. I -’ The German bubbled from Kurt’s tongue. He waved his hands, palms forward. Was he frightened?

‘What do you mean, Kurt?’

Logan didn’t expect a response. He certainly didn’t expect the sort of response that had Kurt teleporting across the room, bamfing into existence in the space the army of empty bottles had previously occupied. Logan, coughing from the stench of brimstone and the waft of smoke that accompanied the ‘port, took a minute to take in the form of Nightcrawler - for it was invariably Nightcrawler now, not gentle and chivalrous Kurt- crouched on the worktop.

Gleaming shades of silver and indigo, squatting like a cat, like some sinister and malicious goblin, Nightcrawler grinned at him. It was a flash of fangs in the half-light. A swish of his tail, the spade brushing Logan’s wrist like the hand of a lover. Logan blinked and realised that Kurt was naked - furred musculature shimmered in front of him, taut planes of flesh and shadow.

Nightcrawler, realising the spotlight was upon him, cracked open another devil-grin. Piracy gleaming in the twin beacons of his eyes as he arched his back, ever so slightly raising his hips towards Logan. Incubus, Incubi, dark and secret demon. Fuck. Nightcrawler licked his pointed teeth with an unexpectedly pink tongue.

‘I mean this,’ he purred, and leaning forward tilted Logan’s chin with a hand that was hard and strong beneath that fur, and met Logan’s rising mouth with his.

He tasted like woodsmoke and cinnamon, and Logan’s beer bottle dropped unnoticed to the floor, to roll to a halt in the midst of glass shards that glittered around them like the remains of a warzone.

**Author's Note:**

>  _rastlos_ unsettled
> 
>  _Entschuldigung!_ sorry!


End file.
